Whispers In The Dark
by shialuvr222
Summary: He realized the moment that he saw his partner dead on the cold cement floor that there wasn't any coming back from this. Not like last time. He would destroy himself over this. Major character death. Inspired by Whispers In The Dark by Skillet.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Another product of an overactive imagination here. This will be continued, but I don't know when. It could be a while.

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or any of the characters. I wrote this story, though. No suing necessary – I don't claim ownership of anything except this.

*****NCIS*

He couldn't take it. Everything seemed so normal and yet so different. None of it was cohesive with the turmoil inside.

So he left.

He went to the one place he knew that no one else would be. He didn't know if it was a good idea or not, but he would see.

He was right. It was empty. All his partner's things were just as he had left them the day he died. A death he didn't deserve.

It was too quiet. No comforting clack of computer keys, or sad sigh he had heard so many times as a result of too many sleepless nights and sick monsters prowling the city. Everything had changed in the course of 24 hours. Once again, he was reminded how quickly the things you take for granted can be stolen from you.

He wandered aimlessly through the apartment, trailing his hand along his friend's belongings. The pain in his chest became so intense that he sank down onto the bed, remembering every insult, every comeback, every word he couldn't ever take back. Every argument they'd had when they forgot how short life is.

Shorter for some than for others.

Why was he still alive? He hadn't exactly been the model of perfect behavior. Why had so many people better than him died first? Why did he have to endure watching everyone he cared about disappear?

There was only one reason he could think of. Punishment.

Everyone had told him not to blame himself. He knew that there wasn't anything he could have done as far as the case; but mentally, he may as well have shot him himself.

He realized the moment that he saw his partner dead on the cold cement floor that there wasn't any coming back from this. Not like last time. He knew he would destroy himself over this.

He had failed.

The body had been released from Autopsy. Ducky said it had been one of the hardest he'd ever done. The funeral was tomorrow. His partner's father would be there, he knew. He didn't know if he could face that.

He wasn't afraid of anger. He had already been informed that no blame had been placed on anyone but the man who pulled the trigger. What he was afraid of was the physical similarity. Of looking into the same eyes of the man he'd worked with for years.

Most of all, he was afraid of looking into the casket and seeing the friend he didn't appreciate enough, preparing to be put six feet underground. Afraid of the eyelids that would never open again.

Nothing would change what had happened, he knew that. He knew better than to think it was all a bad dream. But he desperately wished it was.

Sitting there on the bed, he recalled every moment he had ever been with his partner. The times he had tried to comfort, but failed. The times he needed comfort, and knew he could always turn to the man behind the desk next to him.

When it became too much, he broke down and cried into his hands. He was too grieved to be ashamed. He wished he could have cried himself to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come to rescue him from the agony.

Because, no matter what happened tomorrow, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Timothy McGee would never return home.

*NCIS*

A/N: I know, another Tim tragedy story. What can I say, I love him too much to want him to be happy. lol Actually, if they did half the things I do to him on the show, I would be seriously upset. I do want him to be happy. I'm just too creatively depressed to write him that way. In real life, though, I'm actually a very happy person.

PLEASE review. I'm starting to get even more insecure about my writing. Reviews not only make my day, but they really do inspire me and persuade me to write more. :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So, here we are again. I know, so soon? I hope that's a good thing. I got an awesome response to this last night, thanks guys! I really hope this is a good chapter, after the last one. I'm trying not to disappoint. :) Special thanks to starnite87, Lidil, DS2010, Sason and Dixie Dewdrop for reviewing!

By the way, sorry if it seemed like it was Gibbs' POV in the last chapter. Lidil brought that to my attention – thank you :) – and I'll fix it ASAP. It was Tony, if you didn't know.

XXX

48 hours earlier…

Jethro was being especially affectionate this morning. Not that he wasn't a lovable dog, but Tim really needed to go. He didn't want to be late. Incurring the wrath of Gibbs wasn't on his agenda today.

He was heading for the door when his phone rang. Sighing, he went back and picked it up.

"Hello?"

_Click._

Chills went up and down his spine for no apparent reason. _Probably a wrong number._ He still picked it up when it rang again a few moments later.

"Hello?"

"_Oh, hey, Tim. I was hoping you were still at home."_

"Sarah. How are your finals coming?"

_"I need some help. I don't know why I need advanced math classes when my major is English Lit, I'll never use half this sh-"_

"Okay. How can I help?" He didn't feel like hearing his little sister's college vocabulary today.

_"Can you meet me for lunch?"_

"Yeah. I'll pick you up."

_"Thanks, Tim."_

"I have to go, but I'll see you later, okay?"

_"Alright. Bye."_

"Bye."

Hanging up the phone, he once again moved to the door. Jethro whined pathetically.

"What?"

Turning to look at the German Shepard, he realized that there was more on the dog's mind than a walk. His eyes were colored with sadness that Tim had never seen there before. The foreboding feeling from before was back.

Knowing he had to leave, he took a step towards Jethro and crouched.

"What is it, boy? What's wrong?"

That sadness bothered him. He gave the dog a small smile and patted him on the head one more time.

"Don't worry. I'll be back tonight."

With that, he stood and went to the door.

The moment he stepped outside, a metal pipe collided with his head. He never saw it coming.

XXX

_I have him._  
><em>Your agent.<em>  
><em>No one else knows where he is.<em>  
><em>You can look for him. But you won't find him.<em>  
><em>You have one chance to get him back.<em>  
><em>One chance before I kill him.<em>  
><em>I have no reason to break the rules<em>  
><em>of my own game.<br>__If you miss your chance, I will kill him.  
>If you do as instructed<br>and follow the clue  
>I will return him to you.<br>But I may kill him anyway._

This wasn't turning out to be a good day.

Abby hadn't gotten anything from the note so far. She had barely been able to hold it together. Ducky had said the wording and style of writing were unusual and exhibited a dramatic personality, but nevertheless cold. Ziva was angry but determined, and Tony… Tony wasn't doing well.

Suffice it to say that he hadn't reacted well when he was informed of the situation.

Finally alone in the elevator, Gibbs switched it off and took a moment to compose himself. He started by sighing and rubbing his eyes. He might have known something like this would happen. He _should_ have known.

Vance and Ducky's _it's not your fault_'s echoed through his mind. He appreciated the effort, but yes, it was. He was responsible for everyone on that team.

It didn't help that he had no clue where to start.

It always happens to the good people, doesn't it? It's like the world can't stand it, so they conspire either to change or get rid of them. If they can't be twisted beyond recognition, they die.

That's what happened to Kate.

If it happened to Tim, he didn't know what he'd do.

_No. _It won't happen to Tim. It can't.

Shaking his head, he flipped the switch and waited for the elevator to lift him back to the squad room.

XXX

Now

It wasn't as bad as he thought.

It was worse.

Turns out he had a lot of family. None of them had been very close, though, save his aunt and uncle on his mother's side. A mother, Tony discovered, who didn't bother to come to her own son's funeral.

He stood in the back, unable to sit. He could hardly stand to be here. It was too real.

It made it official. Tim was dead.

He didn't know if he could handle that yet.

He knew there was no bringing him back. But it was an open casket, and he didn't know whether he could take seeing Tim – no. That wasn't Tim. Tim was gone.

Tim wasn't that lifeless.

But now he was faced with a choice. Go and take a last look at his partner and friend, not to mention confidante, of the past eight years, or don't. Remember the sight of him dead in a warehouse for the rest of his life, but don't see him like this. The way morticians have hidden the truth. Avoid the pain for a little while.

Until he goes to sleep. Until he sees it all over again.

Before he could stop himself, Tony strode down the aisle to the back of the line of grieving family and friends. He thought briefly about going back, but dismissed the idea as cowardly. If he could look at Kate's body, why not Tim's?

Because this time, it's different.

He didn't know why it was different. But it was.

Maybe because Kate had died in front of him. But Tim didn't.

Tim died alone.

It was too late. It was his turn. He swallowed, then stepped up to the casket.

And there he lay. Tony didn't know why he expected any different. He had been dressed in a nice suit, and all traces of blood were gone from his face. Lucky for the morticians, he had been shot in the chest. The gash on his head was indistinguishable.

Tony suppressed a gasp. Where had that come from?

He took one last look. Dark blonde hair. Skin whiter than paper. The mouth looked unnatural in a serious line. His eyes were closed, but Tony knew the color by heart.

Suddenly he couldn't breathe. He rushed from the room, ignoring the stares and murmurs. Out of the building. Away from condescending people and judgmental stares.

How did no one else in that church seem to understand how much of a tragedy had occurred?

He drove until he realized he was becoming a hazard to other people. That's when he pulled over by the side of the road and tried to suck in air, but his head spun and his chest burned.

Oh. Wait.

That wasn't a lack of air.

That was his heart breaking all over. Because he had once again failed to save a partner.

To save a friend.

XXX

A/N: Good? Bad? Indifferent? I need to know these things. It helps improve the story for the reader and gets you updates faster. And no, before you ask, this is not a romance story. No Tim/Tony slash. Sorry to disappoint. But have you ever lost a friend before? It hurts like hell, believe me. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I think I have a disease. It's called fanfiction. I think I'm addicted, both to writing and reading. I also think I'm messed up, because I've been working on one multichapter story in particular for months, preparing to post it… Then, two nights ago, I post one random chapter of something I wrote down out of the blue, and all writing on the aforementioned story is on hold, and my writing revolves around something inspired by a song. Awesome song, and I'm really having fun writing this story (is that wrong?), but it's still messed up. XD

By the way, there were a few mistakes in the last two chapters. The first one, where it seemed like Gibbs instead of Tony, has been fixed; in the second chapter, I didn't find any spelling mistakes, it was just a problem with the Italics. It was supposed to be Italic for all of Sarah's lines, and all of the note. I fixed that as well. Sorry about that. :)

Anyway, thank you SO MUCH Lidil, Is and stargems88 for reviewing!

XXX

38 hours earlier…

"Duck."

"How goes the search?"

"Not getting' anywhere. That's why I came to you."

"Ah. Well, I noticed something from the note, Jethro. He said 'clue' instead of 'clues'. I believe he is much too careful to make such a simple spelling mistake, so it has to be deliberate. He also put particular pressure on the word when he wrote it."

"So he wanted us to notice?"

"Yes.

"Why?"

"He most likely wanted to make sure you realize that you only have one chance."

"The part about killing him anyway… Do you think it's a bluff?"

"…Unfortunately, no, I do not. I don't think he would have any qualms about it."

"Duck, he said he wouldn't break the rules. Why would he say that, and then contradict himself?"

"If he were to kill Timothy, he wouldn't be breaking the rules."

"What?"

"He says in the note that we will never _find_ him, not that he wouldn't kill him. Killing him isn't contradicting himself in his eyes." Ducky moved closer. "Jethro, he says he will kill Tim if we lose, but he may even if we win. The problem, and what he's saying here, is that, if we do lose, not only will Timothy die, but we shall never find him again.

"We only have one shot at this."

Gibbs let that reality sink in. He as interrupted, however, by the ringing of his cell phone.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"_Agent Gibbs? Where's Tim? Is he with you?"_

Gibbs' head began to pound. "Crap," he muttered, where Sarah couldn't hear him. Then he groaned, preparing for the anger, and headed for the elevator, to conduct this phone call in private.

Ducky glanced down at the Tim's file that he'd been scanning.

"We'll find you, Timothy."

_Sigh._

"I just hope it'll be in one piece."

XXX

Now

Ziva found him.

He didn't know how. He didn't ask. But Ziva always found him. No matter what.

She stepped up to the window and rapped against the glass. Once he saw her, he automatically shifted to the passenger seat. For possibly the first time in her life, she drove slowly and carefully.

On the way back into D.C., they didn't talk about how she found him staring at nothing, five hours after the funeral ended. They didn't talk at all.

Once she pulled up to his apartment, he moved to get out, but she caught his arm. He stopped.

"You are not the only one grieving for McGee, Tony." She held up a hand to stop his reply. "And I know you are aware of that. To be honest, I do not blame you for leaving today. No one does. Except for those who aren't aware of how much was lost."

She paused. "They are not important. The point I am trying to make is simply that I am sorry." She released him.

"I know you have known him far longer than I. And how close you were."

She waited.

He knew she meant well, and he was grateful. But it was too soon to get into a discussion about Tim.

"Thanks for the ride, Ziva."

With that, he left her in the car and trudged to his apartment. She sighed and shook her head before peeling out of the parking lot and driving away.

Once inside, he dropped everything on the floor and sank down beside it, putting his head in his hands. It was a good thing he was alone, because he knew he couldn't speak if he wanted to.

How many lives had been claimed since he joined law enforcement? How many that he knew? Kate Todd. Danny Price. Jenny Shepard. Gayne Levin. Michelle Lee. Paula Cassidy. Now another name to add to the list. Timothy McGee.

Sitting there alone, he realized that he had all the classic clichés covered. Thinking how it wasn't fair. Feeling black inside. Even the sleeplessness.

There was one he didn't have, though, that he had all the times before. He had never once gone to ask Tim something, only to remember that wasn't there. Would never be again.

That's because he couldn't forget. He couldn't breathe without thinking about how lucky he was that he still could.

Or without wishing that he wasn't.

He knew sleep wouldn't come tonight. It hadn't come in days. But he didn't know if he could take another night enveloped in darkness, memories consuming him.

So he drank until the darkness was gone.

XXX

A/N: Well? What did you think? PLEASE tell me. I need to know these things.

Random note: I watched Wall Street with my dad tonight.

Alright. Carry on with your reading and reviewing.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So, I'm hoping to be able to keep up this nightly update thing, but no guarantees. Right now, it's actually afternoon, and I'm trying to get this done before I go out tonight. Please tell me what you think, and enjoy! :)

Thank you so much Junee, Agent LastWish, Lidil, Is and stargems88 for reviewing! You guys rock :) Is, I feel so bad because I can't personally reply to your reviews like I can for the others, but I REALLY love your reviews. Thank you :D

XXX

32 hours earlier…

"Gibbs!"

He turned at the sound of his name. Ziva and Tony were hurrying towards him, Ziva with a piece of paper in her hand.

"Tony and I came back from Abby's lab, and this was on your desk."

He took the note.

_Your chance is here  
><em>_Are you ready?  
><em>_You don't have long  
><em>_Protection is important  
><em>_Go back to the roots  
><em>_Do your job  
><em>_You may find what you're looking for  
><em>_But maybe not…_

Gibbs' heart sank. This was hardly a clue. It was a riddle.

"Any theories, boss?"

"About to ask you, DiNozzo." Gibbs entered the elevator. "I'm taking this to Ducky."

Ducky was lost as well.

"'The roots' could possibly refer to lineage, though I'm afraid I don't know much about his family tree."

"I do."

There was a moment of silence as both Gibbs and Ducky turned to stare at Palmer.

"W-well, not, um, not very much, but we were talking about it once, a-and he may have mentioned-"

"What did he tell you, Jimmy?"

Undoubtedly nervous at being addressed by Gibbs, but knowing the information could be important, he spoke. "Well, not much," he admitted. "But I was telling him about how my mother and grandparents are from Chicago, and we started talking about family trees, and he told me that his grandparents were Irish, and had immigrated here in their 20's."

Ducky frowned. "I doubt this man would want you to fly to Ireland, Jethro. He isn't that patient."

"The roots… What if it's closer to home than his grandparents?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"When Tim's sister was a suspect, he protected her. He risked his career to keep her safe."

"Well, he _has _exhibited protectiveness over certain individuals… His parents were divorced when his sister was very young, so he most likely felt partially responsible for her."

"I just talked to Sarah. She's fine."

"When?"

"…Five hours ago. Crap."

Gibbs rushed from the room, calling behind him, "Thanks, Duck, Palmer."

XXX

Now

It was a very good thing that Vance had given them each some time off to recover. Tony wouldn't have been able to drag himself out of bed.

It wasn't the hangover. He could handle that; he had experience. What he couldn't bear was the feeling that someone had ripped a huge hole in his chest.

The feeling that nothing would ever be right again.

He had never really looked at his ceiling, he realized. What other time had he laid in bed, staring at the tiles? They were plain white, but a few were cracked and one was almost completely broken off, exposing the wood beneath.

A small family had lived here before him. They had a five-year-old daughter, he had heard from one of his neighbors once. They moved out to find more space.

On one of the bare tiles, that five-year-old had drawn a crooked smiley face in yellow crayon. It had begun to fade, but it was still visible in the dim light.

It was dim because it was raining. Of course, nature would turn on him now. It wasn't raining the day the autopsy was done. Or yesterday, the day of the funeral. Those had been bright, sunny days.

It wasn't raining the day Tim died.

Didn't that go against every mold created for death? Isn't there supposed to be a certain way things happened? A black cloud that the survivors eventually get out of?

He was in that cloud. And he didn't see any end in sight.

He knew it wouldn't do any good to wish for the days when the biggest of his problems was having issues with his father, or wondering when his next date or bedroom escapade would be. That couldn't erase the irreversible damage that had been done.

He still longed for the time when he would have been the one to draw a wobbly face in yellow crayon.

He turned on his side and fell asleep, knowing that he would dream of that God-forsaken day. The same day that, when he woke up, would consume his thoughts.

There was no respite from pain.

When he did wake up, though, he hoped that the family had found a better life. If he couldn't have one, maybe someone else could.

XXX

A/N: Well? Those reviews don't write themselves, you know. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: To be perfectly honest, I'm uploading this because I'm having a very bad day. A couple of reviews would not only be much appreciated, they would brighten my gloomy frickin day. Please…

Thanks to Ismcfan (formerly Is), Candy77, Lidil and stargems88 for reviewing! I loved them, guys… And thank you for making an account, Ismcfan, so now I can reply and thank you fully. :)

By the way, there really is a Woodmont and North intersection in Bethseda, Maryland. I don't know if it was ever a residential district, and I don't think the building there is a rundown warehouse, but bear with me, please.

P.S. I fixed a couple of logistical problems in the last chapter… I don't know why I don't catch these things before they're posted. :P

XXX

32 hours earlier…

"Clear!"

"Gibbs!"

Gibbs headed over to where Tony was standing at the counter of the small dorm room. "There's a note."

"From our kidnapper?"

"No, from Sarah to her roommate. She's gone to the library to study."

"Alright. Ziva, get in touch with campus security. We need a list of everyone who's been on this campus in the past two days who isn't a student or a teacher."

"On it, Gibbs."

"Tony, come with me. We're going to find Sarah."

He should have known that Sarah would be in the same place as she was last time. She sat in the corner with her books in front of her, but she wasn't studying. The thick manuscripts were closed, and she had a box of tissues on the desk in front of her. She looked up as they approached. She took in the solemn looks on their faces, and her eyes widened.

"Oh my God… Did you find Tim? Is he okay?"

Gibbs leaned on the desk. "We haven't found him yet. Are you alright?"

Sarah looked incredulous. "You stopped looking for my brother to ask me if I was alright? I'll be much better when you find him, thank you!"

"No, Sarah, you don't understand." Tony took over. "Has anyone said anything weird or threatened you at all? Anyone acting differently?"

"No, why?"

Tony turned to Gibbs. "I guess 'the roots' meant something else."

"How did you know about that?"

They both turned to look at Sarah. "Know about what?" Gibbs asked cautiously.

"The Roots."

"What is it?"

Sarah sighed impatiently. "When I was little, we lived in Bethseda. There was a huge tree in the backyard with roots wider than a person's head. I used to play in it. I was so little that I called it the roots."

"Does anyone live there now? Your dad or anyone?"

"No. My dad moved to D.C. to be closer to Tim and I, and the people who moved in after us were foreclosed on. It's been torn down, some warehouse was built in its place."

Gibbs pulled his phone out and rushed from the library, Tony on his heels, and dialed Ziva.

"David."

"Car. Now. Forget the list."

_End._

Ziva was there when they got to the car. Once they were half in the vehicle, he took off at an alarming speed. Tony could hardly pull the door closed.

"Abbs!" Gibbs barked into his phone. "Look up McGee's childhood home in Bethseda and get me an address."

"…Alright, Gibbs, you're going to go to the corner of Woodmont and North. There's a rundown warehouse there, in place of his old house. It's abandoned."

"Thanks, Abby."

It was only 7 miles to Bethseda, which Gibbs managed to make in half the time. They were barely in the car.

Outside, they checked to make sure that their gear was up and that they had communication. An ambulance was waiting to hear whether it was needed or not.

Gibbs took a deep breath. "Alright," he said, determination taking over. "Let's go get McGee."

XXX

Black and white make gray.

That was the first thought that occurred to him as he opened his eyes. The memory was still fresh in his mind – he would call it a nightmare, but that wasn't what it was. Nightmares take the thing you fear most and twist them to make them frighten you more. Then you wake up and know it was all a dream.

Nothing could be twisted about this to make it worse. And nothing could wake him up.

The movies lied. They said that there would always be a hero. That, no matter how badly things turned out, that there's always some form of redemption. Some kind of hope.

He knew better. Sometimes you just can't win, no matter what you do.

He knew Gibbs and Ziva thought that he was just taking it really hard. Well, he was. But what they didn't know was that everything was finally catching up to him. All the loss. All the feelings he had buried until now. No matter what direction he went in now, he was lost.

Black and white make gray.

He understood why that ran through his mind, now that he was more awake. There were good things and bad things in his life, black being the bad and white the good. There was some kind of divider between them, or had been, until a few days ago.

Now the black was seeping into the white, poisoning everything good he had to cling to. That divider that had saved him before was gone now. Now his life was gray. And he didn't know how to separate the two again.

It was almost like Tim had been all white. That was how it seemed, anyway. They couldn't break his divider.

So they killed him.

The white had been soiled with red. And now everything was gray.

Tim had had the gray in his life once before. He had told Tony about it. But he had gotten through it. He had made the separation.

Tony wished more than anything that he was here to tell him how.

XXX

A/N: Well? Please review, it's been a really tough day today. I could use a smile, as I'm sure some of you could, too. It might seem weird, all the color analogies, but this is my view on a lot of stuff too when things get heavy, so try to understand where I'm coming from.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: So, I know I just updated this, like, three hours ago, but like I said before, I'm having a really bad day, so I'm posting this because I darn well feel like it. Regrettably, this is the last chapter, but I've been thinking about a sequel to do the others' reactions. Tell me what you think, please.

A huge thank you to Agent LastWish, Junee, Lidil and starjems88 for reviewing! And to anyone and everyone who may review this chapter, in advance! :)

XXX

31 hours earlier…

Gibbs took a deep breath. "Alright," he said, determination taking over. "Let's go get McGee."

Ziva took the back, while Tony and Gibbs went in through the main entrance in the front. They split up soon, however, when they came to a perpendicular corridor. Tony went right, Gibbs left. Ziva's voice came through his earpiece.

"_Clear."_

Tony opened every door in his wing of the hallway and was about to voice affirmative that all was quiet when he opened the last door. He jumped slightly.

There, in a chair, was a man with a crazed yet amused expression, head cocked to the side, a mostly empty syringe lying on the floor beside the chair. It took Tony a moment to realize that he was dead.

He entered the room and checked his pulse, just to be sure. Nothing.

"Got a dead guy."

Then he moved on to the syringe. Clear liquid, most likely a poison, but there would have to be some kind of a relaxant in it to keep him from thrashing. If this was the kidnapper, he probably wanted to be like that for dramatic effect.

The only effect Tony got was creepy.

"DiNozzo. Ziva. Left wing, last door on the right."

Tony instantly abandoned the body and ran at full speed down the hallway and to the left wing of the building. The door to the room he had been directed to was open, and Gibbs was standing outside. His back was to Tony.

"Boss?"

Gibbs turned. The cold pit of fear Tony had had since this whole thing began doubled as he saw his face.

"No."

Tony dashed into the room, ignoring the tired call from Gibbs, and looked around.

He hated what he saw.

Tim was lying on the floor, eyes closed. There wasn't much blood, but there was enough.

He approached slowly, crouching down beside him. There was a seemingly minor head injury and a gunshot wound to the chest. He wasn't an expert, but he would guess that the bullet had gone into a lung. Tim's head was turned to one side, but it didn't look as though he had put it there; it appeared that he had been dumped there while unconscious.

Meaning that he had never woken up after being kidnapped.

All of these were speculations that Tony would have made if he were an investigator. Under normal circumstances, he _was_ an investigator.

But right now, he was just a man.

A man at loss for words.

A man staring at the dead body of his long-time friend.

A man who didn't know what to do.

And all he could manage to say was, "Oh, Tim."

XXX

Now

He was a coward.

He figured that he'd done enough for other people. He'd been brave for a long time. If this was the only thing he could do for himself, at least it was to save the people who cared about him from having to watch him waste away.

Maybe he _was_ selfish. He didn't care anymore. Maybe things were brighter around the corner, but the fact is that it's nearly impossible to imagine light when you're in darkness. He couldn't keep on living with this as long as it would take for help to arrive.

He was standing in Tim's kitchen, leaning against the counter. The rain hadn't let up, so it was dark outside. The little yellow light bulb shone it's brightest to cheer up the apartment, but it didn't do much to extinguish Tony's black cloud of grief. At least he had he proper setting, for once.

He stared for a moment, unmoving, at the small bottle in his hand.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"Yeah, McGee," he said softly. "I really do."

"You couldn't save me. No one blames you for that."

"I do."

"You shouldn't. You heard Ducky. I was dead before you ever got the second note."

He raised his head and looked into the unnaturally pale face that he knew was a hallucination. Twenty-nine Tylenol will do that to you.

"It isn't fair, Tim." His eyes were filling with tears. "We did it all, and it didn't matter. We did what we were told. We figured out the clue. We went as fast as we could, but it never made a difference."

"It did to me."

"No, it didn't." His voice was barely above a whisper now. "Nothing makes a difference to you now."

"That freak wasn't playing a game, Tony, he was playing _you!_ He was trying to get the best of Gibbs' team, trying to defeat us. By doing what you're doing, you're letting him win."

"He already won. You're dead, aren't you?"

"You will be soon, too, if you don't call 911."

"That isn't going to happen."

"You aren't solving anything."

Tony raised his voice. "I'm not strong enough, Tim! I can't… I can't take this!"

Then hallucination was gone. Tony was standing alone in Tim's kitchen.

"Yes, you are."

The voice echoed through his mind as he reluctantly picked up the phone after a moment of hesitation. As it rang, the bat figurine in the windowsill that Abby had given Tim began to dance before his eyes.

"911 dispatch, what's your emergency?"

Tony took a moment before he spoke, his words slurring together. "Why…"

"Yes, sir?"

"…Why am I still alive?"

His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor. It took a moment for his heart to stop beating.

"Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"

XXX

A/N: Well? Too dramatic? Too weird? Did I completely screw it up? Tell me, please. By the way, the thing about it being almost impossible to imagine light when you're in darkness… That came from the heart, people. That was my own experience. If you feel you just have to flame me, don't do it over that.

Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews and support, this has been great to write. You haven't seen the last of me yet ;)


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